upstairs we were greeted like long gone war survivors as unexplained footsteps surrounded our minds we dropped the bench and ran to the familiar comfort of his staircase too blazed to speak, I watched the still sights of papanui road flash by as the police officer lectured me and asked too many questions I’m enveloped by the fear of descending into an existence reminiscent of those I’ve seen stagnantly rotting on the couches filling his living room we threw the tips of the stretches of metal down towards the pavement and dueled like wizards, the sparks exploding from our raw and bloody hands our recluse is chosen, not incurred he spoke of what could have been and I held his hand as I watched his face contort into a state of such loss that I’d never seen before our army began a collective charge and shot fireworks at the fortress, throwing spells at the unknown enemy she held the broom to the streetlight, casting a shadow across his eyes as we chanted “si signor” in hysterics ceremoniously displaying the next step in our transition, she arranged her rings on my fingers he held the match alight above the mess we’d created and softly asked “should I? should I?” there’s an intense passion in this that I’m yet to make sense of